Fear This Monster
by JudgmentalPraise
Summary: They should be afraid. They should fear him, only him, because he is the monster, and he isn't going to save them...not this time.


For a moment, everything is silent.

And dark. It's still, and there's not a single thing to be heard. It's strange, because only moments ago he swears he was surrounded by noise, by...by people, people who he knew...

And then something changes, and it's as if some greater being has switched the world back on, and he's in the world of the living.

He's surrounded by people. It's the same people. He knows these people...he's known them for quite some time now, but something's missing...something important.

Why does he feel this way?

He's not thinking straight. He can tell he's not himself, because his mind is foggy and his limbs feel useless and it's almost as if he has no control over his own body, but...but _why_?

He turns, and it's in that moment that he catches sight of her. Blonde hair, eyes the color of midnight, he sees her, and his slightly unfocused world becomes just a little more focused.

But there's something different about her. It's those eyes. He can tell. He'll never forget those eyes, the very eyes that looked up to him with humor and compassion, the very same eyes that were looking up to him right now, but with an entirely different emotion concealed in their ultramarine depths.

Fear.

She was afraid of him. Why? Why could she possibly have any reason to fear _him_ , of all people? What had he done to spark such a wild emotion in such a fragile being?

A quick glance around the room reveals similar looks in the faces of all the others. It wasn't just her, they were all afraid of him. Everyone in the room was cautious of him; wary, too hesitant for his liking.

 _Why were they staring at him like that?_

He looks back to her, because he doesn't really care for all the others; it's her he's worried about, it's always been her. Everything he's done all these years, everything he's achieved; it's all been for her.

He hasn't come this far just to see her cower away from him in the end.

He forces his body to move towards her, forces his unwilling legs to move. But...they're _not_ unwilling. They're powerful, some unknown force giving them unrecognizable speed, something he's craved for for a long time. It feels different; new, but somehow...it feels right.

Another look around the room proves that they're still there. Something inside him tells him that if they were really afraid of him, they would have fled by now. So it's not really his fault, now is it, if any harm were to come to them. Simple logic proves that if something dangerous were close by, the smart thing to do is run away.

They're looking at him like he's a monster, but it's not their opinions he's worried about.

It's hers.

...

It happened so fast. It was an accident. A drop, a crack, and an unholy force had been unleashed throughout the room.

He'd moved in front of her to protect her, and the beast had chosen him as it's victim.

Now, there was nothing they could do.

His eyes, those very eyes she had grown to love, were the only feature on his twisted, unsightly face that she recognized. Everything else was a mask; an ugly facade used to hide him from the outside world. This wasn't him.

This was a monster.

Yet he was in there somewhere, and despite the look of pure evil that he sent her way, she couldn't bring herself to hate him. She was afraid, but accompanying that empty feeling was something else, something that was the opposite of hate...

He advanced on her, and out of the corner of her eye she saw movement. Her family was coming to her aid, as per usual, but she wouldn't allow them to go near him. This was something she had to do alone. If things got out of hand, and she had to put one before another, she would break. It would be an impossible decision; save her family, or save the tormentor, who was also the person she may have possibly loved the most.

She wouldn't allow them to give her the opportunity to make that decision. She'd stop it all before it even had a chance to happen.

Signalling for the others to stay put, she stood up straight, putting on her own facade, and through the fake confidence, she started to feel something; some sort of reassurance. Maybe everything would turn out okay after all.

With each resounding footstep, she felt the ground shake beneath her. Every foot closer was another step closer to death, but she had to do this. It was the right thing to do.

It was time to face the monster.

The monster with those familiar viridescent eyes.

...

Words.

They were coming out of her mouth, but for the life of him he couldn't make out what she was saying. Her lips moved, and she stood up straighter, but all he could hear was a low rumbling, and the sound of his own heartbeat reverberating throughout his body.

This wasn't him. He didn't feel like himself. Yet the way she was looking at him proved that he was indeed, himself, and that she wasn't nearly as afraid of him as he first thought she was. Or perhaps she had gained some confidence.

The thought had him wanting to laugh. He knew it was absurd, and that he shouldn't really be laughing at this in the first place; it was wrong, yet it didn't feel wrong. It felt natural, _he_ felt natural, almost as if he belonged here. Perhaps he was meant to end up like this, ever since the beginning.

Her face was hovering closer, and he realized with a start that they were standing nose to nose, except she was far shorter than he was.

 _When had he become so tall?_

He could still see the fear in her eyes, but it was hidden deep. A new emotion was brewing on the surface. He couldn't tell what it was. She seemed so far away, yet he knew that she was only a hair's breath away from him.

The sudden urge to cry out to her was overwhelming, and he gave in. He needed to tell her that he was here, reassure her that he was safe; alright. She looked as if she needed to be reassured of something, and he had a feeling that it had something to do with his being safe.

But no matter how hard he tried to cry out to her, no matter how loud or long his pleas for help were, she remained unaffected. It was as if his screams were silent, and she couldn't hear him, no matter how hard he tried.

He reached out to touch her, and that was when he saw it. She flinched, a small, almost imperceptible twitch of her eye, but it was there nonetheless. He saw it, and some evil part deep down within him stirred with this confirmation.

The fear was back.

...

When his misshapen hand reached out to touch her, she flinched. A part of her wanted to cringe and run away in fear; to hide in the deepest, darkest part of the world and hide away, but another, more determined part of her wanted to help him.

She _needed_ to help him.

But in those green eyes she saw the hunger, the pain, and most importantly, the need. The need to kill, and the need to destroy. He needed to wreak havoc, and to him, she was just another obstacle in his past.

Her soul was breaking. She could feel it. This went against anything an everything she had ever been taught. It defied the logical outcomes and simple ways of dealing with it, and most of all, it defied her feelings. There should have been an easier way. There was, but they had lost that opportunity, and it was long gone now, hidden out there in the real world.

One last look at those eyes had tears springing to her own. She couldn't do this. It was near impossible to watch, to witness her childhood friend be tortured in such a way, and knowing she was incapable of doing anything to help. It broke her apart, that feeling of utter helplessness, and she wished it was her trapped inside that soul.

If only he hadn't been trying to protect her. If only he could have left her to fend for herself, just this once...

...

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees one of them throw her something. It's a sword, some great metal weapon, and his anger levels start to rise when he hears it clang to the floor a few feet away.

 _Why would they be trying to kill him?_

Something sparks inside him, and it's almost as if he can see things clearly, for once. They see him as a danger; a threat, therefor they are trying to get rid of him. A single thrust of that sword would have him fighting for life, yet no matter what, still dying in the end. If it got anywhere near him, he was gone.

She hasn't gone for it yet, and even though it confuses him, he pushes the feeling away. There is no time for uncertainty. Not now.

Before she can react, he jumps for it, and he has a moment to take in her startled and fearful expression before the hilt is in his hand. It's heavy, reassuring, and with the weight comes promise. Promise of power and incredibility. Promise of a better life.

He turns, and with the movement, he feels just how strong he has become. This isn't him, but that doesn't mean it can't be. He can grow used to this. It feels so natural, after all, that it most be right. This was meant for him all along.

He sees the others heading towards him, weapons and trinkets in hand, and he laughs at them, because they won't be able to defeat him. They can't compete, not with _him_.

 _He shouldn't be laughing._

Feelings and expectations are pushed aside, and he welcomes the coming freedom that arrives. He can finally be himself, let all the anger and pain and hatred out into the world. In a way, it's his therapy. The only way to be free of all these twisted feelings, is to free them.

Fear. It's what he sees. In a way, it gives him a sick, twisted joy to see that _he's_ the one who sparked this feeling inside them. He placed that fear into their hearts, and it's _him_ they fear, only him.

 _He shouldn't be pleased with himself._

Pale skin surrounded by a halo of fair hair. It's all he can focus on. Those midnight blue eyes are the center of his tilting world, and he's captivated. They get closer and closer, and soon they're right in front of him. He sees something shiny pierce her side, and even though something violent inside of him rips apart and shrieks at him to stop, he's not listening. It's giving him a sick satisfaction to watch her life ebb away, because after all, this is what she had wanted to do to him.

She had wanted to kill, and now she would experience what it was like to _be_ killed.

There's a dark part inside him now, but he pushes sit down, deep, deep, down, where he'll never have to face it again. That part of him is gone; it no longer exists. It's only the new, more experienced version of him that remains.

The girl before him gives him a weak smile, and for a second, he's confused - why would she be happy if she's dying? - but he pushes it away. He sees her lips move; three frail words, but he can't make them out. He doesn't have to. Whatever she has to say; he's sure it's irrelevant.

He looks around, and a twisted smiled forms on his lips. The fear is still there, simmering beneath the surface, but another, more violent emotion is bubbling up to the surface. They're angry, violent to the point where there is no return, and he likes it. Finally, he has a challenge.

He knows that all the people in this room aren't thinking straight. They shouldn't be angry.

He's the monster, and they should fear him.

...

 **Ahhhhhhhhh! What have I done?**

 **God, even i don't know. :(**

 **In case you missed it, Puck has been possessed by the 'Big, Bad, Wolf'. And in case you missed it, he killed Sabrina with the Excalibur. (The kazoo was lost long ago when their house was robbed by EA's, remember?)**

 **They're around 17-19 years old here. Don't really know exactly how old I want them to be, but between maybe 17 and 20 is alright. Use your imagination, people.**

 **I thought it would be pretty cool to do a story about Puck getting possessed, because let's face it, Puck's usually the tough one. We don't really see him when he's most vulnerable, except when Sabrina's involved, so it only makes sense to turn him into the villain, but give him no control whatsoever, and still have him harbor feelings for Sabrina. See? Makes perfect sense.**

 **I'm a genius. Maybe not very talented in the writing department, but talented in the coming-up-with-plotness department. Shut up, autocorrect, plotness is a word. -_-**

 **OMG, autocorrect doesn't recognize autocorrect as a word. HA! SUCK DIRT, SPELL-CHECK THINGO! YOUR OWN NAME ISN'T EVEN IN THE DICTIONARY!**

 **Anyways, I shall get around to updating the other works i have previously started possibly this week or next. Wait for it, it shall be there eventually.**

 **Thanks for reading! Also, please post a review. Even if you think this story's shit, just tell me that in your review. All you have to say is 'This story is shit' and i'll still love you for taking the time to insult my work, even though that's weird and possible abnormal.**

 **It would be nice if you posted** ** _nice_** **reviews too, though. Just saying...**

 **Thanks, guys! I heart you guys all! BYE!**

 **:)**


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